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The Orang Asli of Taman Negara

Malay government policies (especially since Mahathir Mohamad) towards them were identical to English imperialism: Write down your demands on a piece of paper called the ‘Federal Constitution’, teach the Orang Asal Malay then convert them to Islam. The Orang Asal have never been the same since.

Anglophile cunts like Helen Ang call that sort of colonial-styled conversion and suppression “assimilation”.

Coming from another side against natives are other Anglophiles (people like the PJ preacher-reporter Bob Teoh who went to Sarawak), seeking supposedly to protect the Asal aboriginal way of life. Instead they do the same as the Malay government, and more. Bobbie would sell to Sarawak natives his English language and Jesus Christ in the name of Christian charity — a colonized mind selling the colonizing language and culture within himself. Thus Bobbie continues the work of white imperialism in neo-imperial form.

The natives caved in to Anglophiles, people like Bobbie, Mahathir, et al, because their numbers are small and their political and intellectual foundations weak. It will not happen to the Chinese. Never! Even the once proud Japanese have given in to the West. We Chinese are the Last Man (Fukuyama) in the world, literally, standing up to neo-imperialism in all its forms, particularly of the mind.

Malaysian neo-imperialism has produced the like of motherfuckers from Kadir ‘Mad Dog‘ Jasin to Helen ‘Aku Cina‘ Ang, and more and more and more. Small wonder Malaysia is so fucked up.


The colonialist of the mind

When speaking and writing in English, Mahathir Mohamad and Lim Kit Siang and Anwar Ibrahim show how they are permanent features of imperialism’s tyranny. Worse for that, they don’t know it. Imagine, hence, all the (mostly dire) results they would wring out of Malaysia, a country and a cultural milieu so unsuitable to English ways of thinking and doing things.

Now, to the English language, add Christianity (Francis Yeoh, Joseph Lim), you produce the like of Stevie ‘Wonder’ Gan, the Anglophile extraordinaire. Into the cauldron, go farther, throw in Islam (Zakir Naik) and the Arabic language (Hadi Awang)….

As if not content with that state of affairs, successive Malay governments, in the guise of ‘national unity’ and ‘loyalty’ have forced the Chinese to learn Malaiyoo. This colonialism of the mind runs parallel to English imperialism: Most pertinently, it compares to Malays sequestering, first on paper, the Constitution, the native Orang Asal title, calling themselves ‘bumiputra‘. With that title, land was expropriated from the aboriginal people, from Johor and Kelantan to Sarawak and Sabah, a seizure justified, by Takiyuddin Hassan, for example, as  (Malay) ‘government’ land, a government right. How? It’s the Constitution, they say.

Here is one of Malaysia’s most fundamental problems: What you learned as a child cannot be unlearned. That is imperialism’s starting point and is contained in the warnings from Kenya’s Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, below. Native languages and cultures must be preserved at all cost, at any cost.

If people want to assimilate let white people assimilate. Helen Ang or Hannah Yeoh are even welcome to lie with and assimilate to dogs.



The Kenyan author Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, 2018


Decolonising the Mind

From the Tyranny of Language by Francis Wade in comments on ‘Decolonising the Mind’ (Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, 1986, Heinemann) :

Thirty years after graduating from his missionary-run high school near Nairobi, the Kenyan author Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o had gained enough distance to reflect on the lasting effect of colonial education policy in Kenya. “Behind the cannon was the new school,” he wrote in Decolonising the Mind, the 1986 exposition on cultural imperialism in which he examined how the colonial classroom became a tool of psychological conquest in Africa and beyond. “Better than the cannon, it made the conquest permanent,” he wrote. “The cannon forces the body and the school fascinates the soul.”

The Alliance High School, which Ngũgĩ attended, was built in the 1920s and is now one of Kenya’s top-ranking schools. Like so many of the institutions that foreigners “gifted” to the colonies, it was seen by its founding patrons as a benevolent, civilizing instrument for Africans. It instructed in English; children who spoke in the local Gĩkũyũ tongue were beaten. English was the language of power, rationality, and intelligence; Gĩkũyũ, which Ngũgĩ would write in again only decades later, signified backwardness—an Africanness that, for the good of its carriers, had to be exorcized. A gun alone wouldn’t do the job; it needed, in Ngũgĩ’s words, to be “supplemented by the power of thought.” Decolonising the Mind, his attempt to examine how the mental space of colonized peoples came to be invaded and appropriated, is considered a seminal text on how language can be manipulated and pressed into the service of power.

The lectures that formed the basis of the book were delivered in Auckland in 1984, during that year’s Maori Language Week. I met with Ngũgĩ in May this year on his third trip to New Zealand, where we were both speaking at the Auckland Writers Festival. Clear-eyed and articulate at eighty, he recalled an encounter he had during those 1984 lectures that broadened his analysis of the relationship between language and power. A Maori woman had approached him soon after he left the podium. “You were not talking about Kenya,” she told him. “You were talking about us Maori people.” All the examples he had given were taken from Kenya or elsewhere in Africa, drawn from his teenage years in the Alliance High School and the creeping realization in the decades afterward of its insidious influence. “But she saw the Maori situation in it,” he told me. “The condition for acquiring the glory of English was the humiliation of African languages. This was the same in every colonial situation—in New Zealand, too.”

“The African bourgeoisie that inherited the flag from the departing colonial powers was created within the cultural womb of imperialism,” Ngũgĩ wrote in Moving the Centre: The Struggle For Cultural Freedoms, a collection of essays published in 1993. “So even after they inherited the flag, their mental outlook, their attitudes toward their own societies, toward their own history, toward their own languages, toward everything national, tended to be foreign; they saw things through eyeglasses given them by their European bourgeois mentors.”

Frantz Fanon, who died three years before Ngũgĩ published his first book, had issued similar warnings. He foresaw, accurately, a bleak future for societies in which a post-independence middle class, now in power, had—through clientelism and the hoarding of wealth—widened the socioeconomic fissures opened by the colonial project, and was thus in the process becoming the native face of the imperial enterprise. “Seen through its eyes, its mission has nothing to do with transforming the nation,” Fanon wrote. “It consists, prosaically, of being the transmission line between the nation and a capitalism, rampant though camouflaged, which today puts on the masque of neo-colonialism.”

Much of the thinking today about the enduring effects of colonial rule is imbued with a sense that many once-colonized nations still feel a need to validate themselves in relation to the West. Macaulay and his contemporaries saw Western values and achievements as a gold standard to which the rest of the world should aspire, and the architects of colonial language policies, in particular, developed their curricula of control in accordance with that standpoint. Secondary school literature syllabuses in many of the elite African schools still tend to be front-loaded with works in English, because the English canon is still held aloft as the ideal. African writing thus becomes an appendix, and little space is given to studying the oral traditions that were once the primary medium for communicating stories.

A momentum has developed to counter this: cultural theorists working in the postcolonial Asian setting, for example, are advocating a stronger field of inter-Asian studies, while at the same time examining the many discreet ways in which power imbalances between onetime colonizer and colonized are quietly perpetuated today—through the act of literary translation, for example. Propelling this movement is the belief that as long as the West continues to be a, if not the, normative pole of comparison, decolonization will remain in a state of arrest. In Ngũgĩ’s eyes, those validation efforts persist, while the “transmission lines” that Fanon wrote of, whereby post-independence governments serve as intermediaries between Western business interests and exploitative local ventures, are still clearly intact. This speaks to the durability of the psychological component of imperial conquest, one that didn’t announce itself with cannon fire and could not be repelled by force. …




Mindfucked in the USA

by Rachel Yoder

I had actually been fucked in the head years earlier, some might say, by my religious upbringing in a Mennonite commune. Or perhaps it was after I became involved with a charismatic man of dubious intent who convinced me of the failings of my religious upbringing and with whom I eventually made my iconic trip West. I contend the mindfuck really hit its pitch in Arizona, though, where, throughout my twenties, I committed myself to all things new age, therapeutic, and 12-step. My father had told me I would always be Mennonite; I could never change, and, moreover, change itself did not even exist. The therapists I saw later had been all about changing whenever I pleased, from troubled Mennonite girl into a secular, self-actualized über-woman-self.






We Chinese had one long, long look at the western philosophy school of critical thought. Some of the methods, as in scientific reductionism, are good, we’d say, but why are their results so shitty?

Even to defeat a thing as stupid and as voodoo as ‘Belief in God’, it took them 2,000 years! After which, they proceed to write the same belief into their individual, national constitutions to make voodoo Law. A ‘Right’ even!

What is wrong with white people? And to think of all these Anglophile motherfuckers and coconut head Malaiyoos pining after them. (Think of the entire Malaysia/Singapore parliamentary shebang.)

Philosophy Day

From Quartz

Philosophers around the world: rejoice, for the entire world shall pay homage to the great subject this week.

In 2002, UNESCO first declared the third Thursday in November to be world philosophy day; this year, the United Nations agency organized discussions and lectures to celebrate philosophy from November 14 to 16. In honor of world philosophy today (Nov. 15), here are some of the philosophical musings of great philosophers throughout history on the very subject to which they are devoted:

Sharon Lebell on the comforts of philosophy

“Philosophy’s main task is to respond to the soul’s cry; to make sense of and thereby free ourselves from the hold of our griefs and fears,” writes musician and philosophical writer Sharon Lebell in her 1995 book The Art of Living: The Classical Manual on Virtue, Happiness, and Effectiveness. Her writing, highlighted by Maria Popova in BrainPickings, explores the comforts philosophy can bring: “Philosophy calls us when we’ve reached the end of our rope. The insistent feeling that something is not right with our lives and the longing to be restored to our better selves will not go away. Our fears of death and being alone, our confusion about love and sex, and our sense of impotence in the face of our anger and outsized ambitions bring us to ask our first sincere philosophical questions.”

Socrates on the necessity of philosophy

To others, philosophy is not a comfort, but a necessity. When Socrates was sentenced to death for “corrupting the young” through his philosophical provocations, he responded that it was all worth it. In Plato’s Apology of Socrates, which chronicles the trial, Socrates claims that “the life which is unexamined is not worth living.” Socrates details his pursuit of knowledge and truth, and declares that the philosophical discourses that led to his death sentence ultimately made life rewarding.

Rebecca Newberger Goldstein on how philosophy engenders humanity

Socrates died more than 2,400 years ago, but the value of philosophy has not diminished. In 2014, philosopher Rebecca Newberger Goldstein, author of “Plato at the Googleplex, told The Atlantic that philosophy teaches people to “think critically” and “challenge your own point of view.” She added:  It’s us at our most human. And it helps us increase our humanity. No matter what you do, that’s an asset.”

Bertrand Russell on philosophy’s ability to expand the mind

For a lengthy philosophical treatise on the value of philosophy, turn to 20th century thinker Bertrand Russell, who wrote an entire essay on the subject in his 1912 book The Problems of Philosophy. Russell acknowledges that philosophy struggles to arrive at any one definite truth, but argues that is besides the point. His concluding paragraph reads:

Thus, to sum up our discussion of the value of philosophy; Philosophy is to be studied, not for the sake of any definite answers to its questions since no definite answers can, as a rule, be known to be true, but rather for the sake of the questions themselves; because these questions enlarge our conception of what is possible, enrich our intellectual imagination and diminish the dogmatic assurance which closes the mind against speculation; but above all because, through the greatness of the universe which philosophy contemplates, the mind also is rendered great, and becomes capable of that union with the universe which constitutes its highest good.

And if that seems too abstruse an introduction, Twitter has a far pithier take: https://twitter.com/existentialcoms/status/1062768872900648960

In honor of world philosophy day, why not give such impossible, complex thinking a go? You probably won’t arrive at a new truth; it’s far more likely that you’ll realize all your existing truths are false. But philosophical thinking is a beautiful and mind-expanding process, regardless of whether it arrives at a definitive answer. So read Kierkegaard and Nietzsche and Camus, and reckon with the great questions and disintegrating reality. For the sake of UNESCO and philosophers around the world, acknowledge that certainty is nothing more than a myth.



The trouble with the West is, they believe too highly in their ability to philosophize and this doesn’t humble them.


What’s the matter with these gweilos? This olang putih.


We have been philosophizing the same, deepest secrets 3,000 years ago. The answers from the Daodejing 道德經:

If everybody knows what beauty is,
then beauty is not beauty [anymore];
If everybody knows what goodness is,
then goodness is not goodness [anymore].
Being and nothing give birth to one another,
Hard and easy are mutually formed,
Long and short made each other,
High and low measure each other,
Music and voice are harmonized with each other,
Front and back follow one another.

Put thirty spokes together to one hub,
The original empty space makes the use of wheel.
Knead clay into vessels,
The original empty space makes the use of vessel.
Shape door and windows for a house/room,
The original empty space makes the use of house/room.
So the things that are made are only conditions,
What [we] are using is still the original empty space.

Discard conventional doctrines and be relieved from anxieties.
Approval or flattery, what difference does it make?
Good or evil, what difference does it take?
Just because the people are at awe, you cannot be indifferent?

Knowing people is being intelligent,
Knowing self is being enlightened.

Those who know talk not,
Those who talk know not.

Knowing that you do not know, is superiority;
Not knowing that you know, is defectiveness.

Truthful words are not pleasant,
Pleasant words are not trustworthy;
Those who are good do not dispute,
Those who are disputatious are not good;

And then this…

The more that’s accomplished, the less is accomplished until nothing is accomplished.

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Update: Liberalism, 1MDB and Goldman Sachs

Pakatan Harapan is Liberal. But, what is it to be Liberal?

Pankaj Mishra (below), an Indian national, writes on international politics and ideology. What’s special about him is, he refuses to do all that thinking and writing sitting in New York or London. He does it from his homeland, India. Like us at shuzheng, he is sick of the duplicitous tongues of Asians — that is, Anglophiles — regurgitating white man ideological deceits on some moral high ground, liberalism being the most prominent. It not only goes to show that Anglophiles are stupid but they are hypocritically disingenuous.

Mishra’s warnings are as applicable to Malaysia and Singapore as they are to India and the rest of the world outside the West. Liberalism is the crucible, in fact, the womb of authoritarianism. Such an idea cannot be expected to come from the West — they made it up after all — though some academics among them have made the same observation. Helena Rosenblatt, for example: Liberalism and Totalitarianism are cut from the same cloth.

Pankaj Mishra is a lone voice, yes. And, like him, we too don’t care. Harsh words, but they must be said. Mishra was interviewed by Francis Wade recently and the full text can be found here. Excerpts below which are broken down into sub-topics.

Read it carefully and you will see, picture even, in Mishra’s words Goldman Sachs which has piously proclaimed, 1MDB? This is not us. But it is you, exactly you, motherfucker!


The Liberal Order is the Incubator of Authoritarianism


Liberal — the last person to be counted on for freedom

There is no doubt that the individual freedoms central to liberalism ought to be cherished and protected. The question is how, and by whom? Are many self-declared liberals the best defenders of individual liberties? As it happens, many powerful and influential people who call themselves liberals are mostly interested in advancing their professional ambitions and financial interests while claiming the moral prestige of progressivism for themselves. They are best seen as opportunistic seekers of power, and they exist in India…

Liberalism blackmail

As Trumpism and other authoritarianisms become powerful, their liberal critics engage in a kind of moral blackmail based on a spurious history: “Are you against the ‘liberal order’ which guaranteed peace and stability, and other wonderful things for so long?” The obvious answer is that your much-cherished liberal order was the incubator for Trumpism and other authoritarianisms. It made human beings subordinate to the market, replacing social bonds with market relations and sanctifying greed. It propagated an ethos of individual autonomy and personal responsibility, while the exigencies of the market made it impossible for people to save and plan for the future. It burdened people with chronic debt and turned them into gamblers in the stock market. Liberal capitalism was supposed to foster a universal middle class and encourage bourgeois values of sobriety and prudence and democratic virtues of accountability. It achieved the opposite: the creation of a precariat with no clear long-term prospects, dangerously vulnerable to demagogues promising them the moon. Uncontrolled liberalism, in other words, prepares the grounds for its own demise.

Liberalism, handmaiden of Imperialism

…[T]he question of liberalism’s relationship with imperialism — whether the former is contingent on the morally tainted successes of the latter and therefore tends to weaken when the empires totter — has become particularly urgent as non-Western powers emerge and an endless economic and political crisis forces Western liberal democracies to expose their racial and inegalitarian structures, their leaders resorting to explicit appeals to white supremacism. I wrote in 2015, in a survey of liberalism’s record in the non-Western world, that “liberalism” has come to be seen “as an unaffordable plaything of rich Westerners: the elevation into universal values of codes that long favoured a tiny minority, and are unlikely to survive the rise of everyone else.”

After Anglophile comes the Yankeephile

We still need a sociology of these new elites — their connections to the US and Europe through networks of colleges, universities, think tanks, NGOs, foundations, and fellowships, and their ideological indoctrination at various institutions. Anecdotally, I can confirm that in India a whole new American-educated — or America-philic — class emerged to argue for untrammeled markets and to institutionalize their ideas. They often called themselves liberal, but they were also to be found on the Hindu right, and the traffic between the two camps was brisk. …



Now, come again, What is it you said, Matrasad of Cambridge?

This is something we Chinese have long suspected. Whitney Sha went to Princeton to master the western humanities curricula (that would include Malaysia’s hotshot Khoo Kay Kim history), German philosophy in particular, Cultural Semiotics, Heidegger, Carnap, the like, and this is what she found: Bullshit.

Western culture is just so full of bullshit (and those are Sha’s words) that it is today the normal. It starts in primary. Consider this: ‘Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity.’ That title appears impressive because the jargon reads difficult? But, what if it was neither impressive nor difficult, whatever the jargon. In truth, it is actually a faked title of an academic faked treatise. That is, it is meaningless, utter bullshit.

But guess what? It was hailed as a scholarly paper and actually published in an academic journal.

Next, consider the more common words, the “Absolute,” “the Infinite,” “non-being,” “essence,” and Heidegger’s “Nothing.” Tossed about and mixed, they distilled into words like “freedom” and “rights”, which nobody can get a grip on and they, in their turn, spill into reports by AP, Reuters, Bloomberg, Asian Wall Street Journal, Malaysiakini, and, of course, out of Steven Gan’s ass hole. Also, think of the comments online, from matrasad here, in Annie of the Valley, Helen Aku Cina Ang, Ahi Attan, Outsyed the Box, and tons and tons more.

Wrote Sha, citing Carnap in part:

“We call bullshit even on texts with relatively simple wording…. Statements in which these words appear cannot be judged true or false because they lack determinate referents and therefore do not claim anything at all. To a philosopher working in (one) tradition, a discourse on “the Absolute” is utterly meaningless, and Hegel and his exegetes complicit in an industry of what Sokal denounces as “superficial erudition.”

Now, if simple, everyday words like Absolute and Infinite and Freedom and Holy are bullshit, where will you then find the world’s biggest bullshit of all times? The Holy Bible, of course. This is not to leave out the runner-up, the ‘Holy Quran’.

Sha’s full essay below. Title is mine. It is something we Chinese have long complained about those La Salle schools, and their Anglophile products. The language, English itself, is just so much of gibberish. And they want to bring back English?


Whitney Sha

The Anglophone School of Bullshit


“One of the most salient features of our culture,” writes philosopher Harry Frankfurt in the opening line of his essay “On Bullshit,” “is that there is so much bullshit.” Because bullshit is almost everywhere, we assume we know how to recognize it and thus what it is. According to Frankfurt, however, few of us actually do. What we need (and what he gamely offers) is a theory of bullshit. Although most of us would agree that both bullshit and the outright lie are modes of misrepresentation, there exists a key difference between the two. Neither the bullshitter nor the liar can be relied upon to tell the truth. But in order to lie, the liar must first believe that she knows the truth; only then can she persuade her audience of what she knows to be untrue. The bullshitter, on the other hand, maintains no relationship at all with the truth: it is irrelevant to the bullshitter whether what she says is true or false, and what she is guilty of misrepresenting is precisely her concern for the distinction between the two. The epistemological indeterminacy under which bullshit is produced is, Frankfurt argues, what really characterizes bullshit as such.

If a high volume of bullshit is a mark of our culture, then “bullshitting a paper,” as anyone who has attended high school or college can attest (me included), must be one of the preeminent rites of passage in our educational system. I was already well into my compositional career when I came across Frankfurt, but as I thought back to all the bullshit I had heard about, witnessed in action, and been personally responsible for, I realized that Frankfurt’s theory was significant for academia as well. A bullshit paper intends to misrepresent, but not in the way a report sponsored by a cigarette manufacturer claims that nicotine is harmless or an embellished resume claims that I can speak fluent Russian. The bullshit paper does not misrepresent its topic; rather, it misrepresents its author. The bullshitter’s aim is not to convince her audience of anything in particular, but merely to convince them that she is saying something in particular.

That the humanities are especially hospitable to this kind of bullshit is the source of a complaint I first remember being voiced by a friend who had decided to major in computer science. He loved novels and had taken a number of literature classes, but he had found them frustrating because, it seemed to him, “you could write whatever you wanted in papers and still get an A.” He had nothing against literature on the whole, he assured me, but he preferred majoring in a discipline where the standards for genuine achievement were clear. It is a grievance I’ve heard all too often since then. What is usually considered one of the humanities’ greatest strengths—the tolerance, even encouragement, of a multiplicity of responses to a single question—can easily become their undoing. How do we evaluate these responses? If there is no one right response, who’s to say that any given response is wrong? When we say, as we commonly do, that the humanities are “subjective,” we leave ourselves vulnerable to a constant and gnawing doubt: How can we be sure that our work isn’t bullshit?

The humanities, as we all know, are in crisis. Federal funding has dried up and enrollment is on a steady decline; departments are being slashed; adjuncts labor at less than a living wage in hopes of clinging on to the periphery of academe. In response, politicians have called for redoubled investment in math and science, touting enrollment in business, computer-science and engineering as the solution. All the while, critics demand to know how studying Confucius could be more important than learning how to balance a checkbook.

According to this view, the humanities are a bad bet because they’re frivolous, impractical, self-indulgent. But this objection—the predominant one among politicians and other outside judges of the humanities—may well be related a yet more fundamental one, which is internal to the humanities themselves. The humanities, as we are constantly reminded, are “subjective”—so subjective, in fact, that the contributions of self-proclaimed fakes find company with those of chaired professors. This is a complaint we hear not only from disaffected undergraduates but, even more damningly, from other humanists: we need only to look to the recent “Grievance Studies” hoax, in which a team of humanists wrote and submitted twenty spoof articles to top journals in their own field (seven were accepted and seven more were still under review as the team was detailing their findings). If for the liar, according to Frankfurt, “there are indeed facts that are in some way both determinate and knowable,” the hoax once again made explicit the challenge of deciding good from bad work in a field where there are no determinate facts. The fact that so many of the parodic articles had been accepted by academic journals, said the political scientist Yascha Mounk on Twitter, revealed that many humanists cannot tell the difference between serious scholarship and “bullshit.”

Before “Grievance Studies” (which Mounk has dubbed “Sokal Squared”), there was the 1996 Sokal hoax, in which physicist Alan Sokal set out to show that scholarly legitimacy in some “fashionable sectors of the American academic Left,” concentrated mostly in the humanities, had been overtaken by arguments from authority and homage to trendy buzzwords and theories. To prove his point, Sokal wrote and submitted to Social Text, a journal of postmodern cultural studies, a parody article entitled “Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity.” His premise: there was no such thing as a “transformative hermeneutics of quantum gravity”—which he knew because he’d made it up—and if Social Text happened to publish the article anyway, the academic community would see just how fraudulent scholarship in the humanities had become.

Social Text fell for it. After “Transgressing the Boundaries” came out in print, Sokal confessed to the hoax in a separate journal, declaring that his article was nothing but “a pastiche of left-wing cant, fawning references, grandiose quotations, and outright nonsense.” In “Transgressing the Boundaries,” which argues that quantum gravity is a social and linguistic construct, Sokal denies science’s claim to objective truth (left-wing cant), invokes Deleuze and Derrida (fawning references), and cites Lacan’s claim that the human psyche can be modeled by a Möbius strip (grandiose quotations). Most importantly for our purposes, though, the article succeeds as a caricature, offering a ready example of what we talk about when we talk about bullshit:

One characteristic of the emerging postmodern science is its stress on nonlinearity and discontinuity: this is evident, for example, in chaos theory and the theory of phase transitions as well as in quantum gravity. At the same time, feminist thinkers have pointed out the need for an adequate analysis of fluidity, in particular turbulent fluidity. These two themes are not as contradictory as it might at first appear: turbulence connects with strong nonlinearity, and smoothness/fluidity is sometimes associated with discontinuity (e.g. in catastrophe theory); so a synthesis is by no means out of the question.

One popular answer to the question of what makes bullshit bullshit is gratuitous jargon. What is the “theory of phase transitions”? Or “turbulent fluidity”? “Nonlinearity”? “Discontinuity”? The best defense, the bullshitter knows, is a good offense, and she flashes complex terminology in order to mask her own ignorance. But does this answer really grasp what’s essential to bullshit—or jargon, for that matter? If I flipped to a random page in a middle-school biology textbook I could read about “heterotrophism” or “anaerobic respiration” or “independent assortment”; in a math textbook I could find sections on “prime factorization” or the “multiplicative inverse.” Yet few call bullshit on math or biology, even though journal articles in these fields are often packed more densely with jargon than Sokal’s parody article.

Besides, we call bullshit even on texts with relatively simple wording. Take for example one passage from Heidegger’s essay “What Is Metaphysics?”:

Where shall we seek the nothing? Where will we find the nothing? In order to find something must we not already know in general that it is there? Indeed! At first and for the most part man can seek only when he has anticipated the being at hand of what he is looking for. Now the nothing is what we are seeking.

None of the terms in the passage would be unfamiliar to the average middle-schooler. Nevertheless, Heidegger’s contemporary Rudolf Carnap descended hungrily upon this passage in his critique of metaphysical writing, arguing that Heidegger’s terms were “meaningless,” his statements “pseudo-statements,” and his pretensions to philosophy better suited to a creative medium like poetry. But if the presence of jargon does not guarantee that something is bullshit and the absence of jargon does not preclude it, then jargon alone cannot explain what makes bullshit objectionable—or indeed what makes it bullshit.

Carnap, however, had a larger point to make. In denouncing Heidegger and other metaphysicians, he argues that there exist certain “words without meaning”—words that philosophers have been perplexing themselves over for millennia without realizing that they do not refer to anything at all: “the Absolute,” “the Infinite,” “non-being,” “essence,” and Heidegger’s “nothing.” Statements in which these words appear cannot be judged true or false, Carnap says, because they lack determinate referents and therefore do not claim anything at all. Might this be an adequate criterion for judging bullshit? It is “not just false,” as Sokal writes of his use of technical language in Fashionable Nonsense (his book-length follow-up to the Sokal hoax), “it is gibberish.” The trouble with the phrase “turbulent fluidity,” Sokal might say, isn’t that it means the wrong thing, but that he doesn’t know what he means by it. And if he doesn’t have to commit to a certain meaning, his work is above reproach: any attempt at criticism can be brushed off as the critic’s failure to grasp what he is really trying to say.

The problem with this approach to defining bullshit is that humanists often disagree about which words have determinate referents, and even about the acceptable threshold for terminological vagueness. To a Hegelian, for example, it is indeed possible to have serious discussions about “the Absolute”—the term refers to a specific concept within Hegel’s philosophy, and one can distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate uses of it. But Hegel, while a cornerstone of philosophy departments in continental Europe, is systematically passed over in Anglophone ones (my undergraduate institution offers one class on Hegel every two years in the religion department). To a philosopher working in the latter tradition, a discourse on “the Absolute” is utterly meaningless, and Hegel and his exegetes complicit in an industry of what Sokal denounces as “superficial erudition.”

The notion of erudition unmerited—erudition that is no more than superficial—is what lies at the heart of bullshit. This is what makes the problem of bullshit a psychological and sociological question as well as a linguistic and philosophical one. Only great work, we believe, deserves our consideration and praise, and great work in any field presupposes great skill and great effort. Accusations of bullshit, therefore, call into question the existence of a hierarchy of expertise: is there any difference, in the humanities, between being an amateur and being an expert?

What does it mean to study the humanities? If you, like me, were educated in the American public-school system, you were probably treated early on to a version of the claim that “the wonderful thing about literature is that there can be many right answers!” If you had art or music or drama classes, you were graded based on participation. Perhaps later, in middle school, you came across a more sophisticated formulation of the difference between the sciences and the humanities, something like, “The sciences study the world outside us and the humanities study the world within us.” But the human condition can’t be quantified. What metric can tell us if Raphael or Michelangelo is the better painter? How do you calculate the effect of a poem?

Your high school English teacher asked you for your interpretation—or if the class was feeling collegiate, your “reading”—of a passage. In fact, your English class abounded with interpretations, and if you had a string of especially uninspired experiences you might have concluded that literature consisted of nothing more than extracting as many interpretations from a text as possible. (There’s a satirical internet meme that goes “‘The curtains were blue.’ What your teacher thinks: ‘The curtains represent his immense depression and his lack of will to carry on.’ What the author meant: ‘The curtains were fucking blue.’”) At the same time, you were writing essays and short responses, hundreds of them, from book reports to historical analyses. And you were realizing that “many right answers” might actually mean “no wrong answers.” Your teachers were now telling you that it didn’t matter what your thesis was as long as you defended it well. You learned how to find reputable sources, to organize your argument persuasively, to cite and then refute opposing viewpoints. At some point in your writerly development you grew conscious of your ability to argue persuasively as a form of knowledge in itself. After all, until very recently the SAT writing section featured an essay prompt with which it was equally possible to agree and disagree. The side you chose, multiple practice books assured you, made absolutely no difference; the College Board simply wanted to test you on how well you could justify your position with critical reasoning.

One might find a more regimented vision of humanistic study at the university level, but there a different foe rears its head: if the purpose of a university education is to prepare young people for their careers (the argument from practicality), then the university should teach employable skills. Understandably, a number of humanistic commentators have worked to turn this argument back upon itself. The value of a humanistic education—or liberal-arts education in general—is precisely that it isn’t directly practical, they contend. Rather what the humanities cultivate is “critical reasoning,” that mystical and omnipotent faculty that gives rise to all our applied abilities. In our globalized economy, the comparative-literature major who understands the cultural and historical forces driving a particular foreign market as well as the classics major who writes clearly and convincingly thanks to her training in textual analysis have immense advantages over their business- and science-major peers. Anyone, anytime can learn how to make a spreadsheet or use a pipette; it is in unquantifiable skills that we need special instruction. In an elegant twist, the humanities actually turn out indirectly to be the most practical choice because the knowledge they impart is lifelong and universal.

But if this defense is meant to save the humanities from their critics, its means are quietly subverting its ends. What we suggest when we invoke it is that the humanities have a form but no content, that their value lies not in what they can teach us about art or religion or philosophy itself but in how a distilled understanding thereof will enable us to achieve our immediate goals. An education in the humanities, in short, is an education in rhetoric. But an all-purpose rhetoric, one that allows its practitioners to sweep aside knowledge of particulars with their superior ability to debate, persuade and negotiate their way to what they want. It is the singular talent for which the Ancient Greek sophists, who Socrates says knew how to “make the stronger argument the weaker and the weaker argument the stronger,” were notorious. When we promise students that the humanities lay the foundation for any and all career paths and will make them far more successful than their vocationally oriented peers, we promise that we will teach them how to bullshit well.

This conclusion is rarely discussed on a systematic level, although humanists have proposed individual responses to it. Some, for starters, play the “no true humanist” card: there may be bullshit in some humanistic disciplines or by some humanists, but real work in the humanities is just as rigorous and legitimate as work in the sciences. Classicist and philosopher Martha Nussbaum, for example, has accused literary scholar Stanley Fish of radical relativism and gender theorist Judith Butler of deliberate obfuscation; philosopher John Searle has combed through Jacques Derrida’s work to reveal that, for all its ambition and difficulty, it is ultimately “unintelligible.” If Fish and Butler and Derrida have somehow failed in their charge as humanists, then the humanities as a whole don’t have to be responsible for justifying their work.

Meanwhile, others deny the humanities’ need for “objectivity” altogether: So what if there are multiple ways to write a history or if no one can tell you what a line of Cavafy means? The humanities are qualitatively different from the sciences, and as such they call for different methods; it would be unsound to condemn humanistic work just because it doesn’t conform to the scientific model that has come to dominate our assumptions about the production of knowledge. This is an attractive claim, and to a certain degree I am sympathetic to it. But it does less to settle the underlying question than to raise it in a different form: if the humanities do not conform to scientific standards, what standards do they conform to?

Perhaps the question of standards, then, is the first question a comprehensive defense of the humanities must address. Is it true that there is no hierarchy of expertise in the humanities at all? I often think back to the first time I opened a calculus textbook and compare it to the first time I opened Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit. I understood neither, but I was inclined to believe that with enough time and effort I would eventually grasp calculus, whereas with Hegel I was far more pessimistic. But why? A student who wants to learn calculus will attend class, read the textbook, do the practice problems and approach her teacher with any struggles she might have. A student who wants to learn about Hegel, or any other “obscure” author, is advised to take a similar path. And many students do eventually understand Hegel—or at least understand him better than they did at first—provided they put in the time and effort. Of course, since there is little consensus on what counts as bullshit, drawing the line between bullshit and work that is genuinely difficult is, at least for now, an exercise left up to the individual humanist. The fact remains that humanistic work does admit of its own kind of difficulty, which most humanists know well—and describing the nature of this difficulty is where, it seems to me, the most productive defense of the humanities can start.

_ end of essay on bullshit_


Ever wonder about Francis Fukuyama bullshit, Sha? Unlike you, has he even got a mother he bullshits about? A Freudian Francis nothingness.


When Anglophiles and Malaiyoos label the Chinese as a ‘pragmatic’ people, they mean to say, we are realists, with feet firmly planted on the ground, no holy this and holy that. But, if we are pragmatic, what does it make of them?

My guess is this: Snaky. Snakes have no legs. Small wonder Anglophiles and Malaiyoos like giving forked-tongue speeches. And break contracts! Manifestos, too. In a word, unreliable.



Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island? Yes, captured from Samoa where it was already surrounded by white treasure hunters when he arrived. They took everything, even the Samoan soul.


When Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are the same Liberal


Author of Treasure Island and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson first sailed into Samoa 1889 Dec 7 and this is what he wrote to his friend Charles Baxter:

I am not especially attracted by the people; they are courteous, pretty chaste, but thieves and beggars, to the weariness of those involved.

Robert Louis Stevenson and his household in Samoa

Robert Louis Stevenson and members of his household in Vailima, Western Samoa. (Back row, from left: Joe Strong, Margaret Stevenson, Lloyd Osborne, Robert Louis Stevenson, Fanny Stevenson, and the steward Simi. Stevenson’s step-daughter Belle is sitting on the right in the middle row.) 


If Samoans are by Stevenson’s Christian morality standard ‘evil,’ then he should leave. He didn’t. Instead, this is what he wrote in a letter to the British artist Trevor Haddon about the Samoans:

No man can settle another’s life for him. It is the test of the nature and courage of each that he shall decide it for himself.


Robert Louis Stevenson’s tomb.

The tombstone atop Stevenson’s mountain grave in Samoa bears as an epitaph his poem ‘Requiem.’ Even in death Stevenson continued to assert his shadow on Samoan society: Scottish literary culture.


Note that Stevenson had arrived in the era when white Europeans made seizure and plunder a way of life, normal, from one end of the world to the other, from Canada to Central America and the Falklands, from Samoa to the Andamans to Africa. After which they divided it up among themselves. The Qing Dynasty fell, the South China Sea islands changed hands, Philippines, and onwards and onwards and onwards.

Between the time Stevenson arrived and died, the Samoans began changing, first in small ways. (Note the sarong in top photo). But not Stevenson. (Check out the photo again taken after he had taken a slice out of the Samoans.)

Samoans were still a free people despite British and German agents who tried seizing their land for the coconut oil for making soap, cosmetics and some kinds of medicine. Stevenson remained a liberal. Although he supposedly ‘bought’ from the Samoans 314 acres to build his mansion, calling the estate Vailima, but what were the Samoans to do with his British currency? Later it was used to buy British goods. Until then neither Samoan economy nor their secluded, self-sufficient lives ever needed British banknotes. What the fuck off? Toilet paper?

(Here’s an aside: entire Polynesian and Micronesian economies were, once upon a time, self-sufficient by fishing mostly and growing taro, a kind of root crop. See below. After the arrival of white people, they stopped fishing and began buying and eating canned fish imported from the British and other Europeans. Ayam brand? This is how people lose their freedom: they become dependent. What also followed is worse, Samoan lives actually depended on ‘advanced’, today called ‘state-of-the-art’ British medical services and pills. Why? What was once a healthy population, latter day Samoans — and not only them but virtually all the little Pacific islands — fell sick from nutrient deficiency because they ate only processed foods, including English potatoes in cans. Today, their economies, indeed their pitiable lives, are reduced to dancing for tourists. And it’s always, always, always the same dance for tourists after tourists after tourists to music played on western-made instruments. What’s there to change for different faces?)

What changed in Samoa was this: Stevenson became a liberal in the modern sense from the old Tory conservatism he was. This explains the contradictions in his letters and Stevenson’s own hypocritical actions. He takes other people’s land and yet say this to students at a theological college:

You may make all the good laws on earth, still your land will be sold, and when your land is sold, your people will die.

He says, No man can settle another’s life for him, and while urging Western powers to stop interfering in Samoan affairs for financial reasons, yet he tells Samoans to “make a little more money.” In other words, Samoans ought to be like him, a Liberal individualist, free, capitalist, laissez faire enterprise, to accumulate. Samoan culture was, once upon a time, shared culture, scarce property being shared assets, much of the land for example, not individualist. But in his own Vailima estate, Stevenson turned Samoans into minions, a person’s life being controlled by aristocrats, through the medium of money, serving as a kind of property class, a feudal idea imported from Britain and Europe and which is entirely alien to Samoan culture and even for most of the non-white worlds.

Until the arrival of the white man bringing in their ‘civilization’ — whatever the fuck that is — Samoan lives were free to themselves, as Karl Marx might say, work in the mornings and fish in the afternoons.

Stevenson helped instead ‘settled’ the lives of Samoans today. Land gone, the Samoan died, as Stevenson say they would. They became more and more like the Western man and over the decades less and less and less like Samoans were.

Today they called this culture process ‘assimilation’, an inevitability, white people say, in Cambridge in particular. This assimilation is odd. As did happened in Samoan assimilation, Malay assimilation, Malaysian assimilation, Indian assimilation, all went one way, in one direction, all towards white ways of life, and note this, assimilation was capped by white political culture and thinking: Liberal. Freedom. Democracy. Human rights.

Assimilation became white — it becomes, and it is, Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History and the Last Man (1992).

This definition of Liberal, in simultaneity with Assimilation is really bizarre: entire worlds convert to western ideas about what it is to be free and have human rights and now these worlds, from the Canadian ‘Indians’ to the Aztecs in South America, from the Samoans to Zulus in South Africa are instructed — America being the biggest and loudest instructor — to adopt that and only that, the liberal benchmark on what it is to be free.

This, being liberal and democrat, being Anglophile, is what Joseph Lim Guan Eng means when he says “I’m Malaysian” although there is no native Malaysian culture, identity nor native thinking nor native political philosophy. Not even in the beginning; there was no beginning. Guan Eng’s own life, as with all Anglophiles, starting in a Johor pigsty going on La Salle and white Australia, had been subverted to only one form and one content and one benchmark. His own freedom gone, all that’s left is a whiteness. A Banana.

Even Penans of Sarawak and the Orang Asal of the Peninsula are giving way, Mahathir Mohamad being instrumental in their conversion. But one nation stood up to survive the invasion and all that plunder, the conversion, the assimilation and the havoc. The Chinese.

We Chinese have our own clothes, own food, own political philosophy, own land, own music, own ethics, own freedom, own pine trees and firs, own forest and rivers, own language, own history. We don’t need white people tell us how to live nor tell us what it is to be free. We Chinese will stand up against white people, every time, any time they come near us again. History will not be repeated. Not in our motherland, not even near us. And should Anglophiles, Indians and Muslims join white people to undermine and threaten us, we’ll crush them as well. But you wouldn’t know a thing. It’s painless. Our ancients taught us that.

Last man, Francis Nipponie Anglophile Fukuyama? The end of history, you say? You ain’t seen nothing yet, boy…

image from BloggingHeads.tv podcast

Francis Nipponie Anglophile Fukuyama: He argues that the last, perfect man in the world is, White, Liberal, Anglophile. Nothing comes after — the End of History. Of course, this is after the White, Liberal made Anglophiles of everybody, the rest of the world, one country excepting. We’ll see, Francis!



Above is the taro plant. Looks familiar?  Guess its native origin? Southeast Asia, Malaysia in particular.


Today, Samoa is a ‘protectorate’, whatever the fuck that is, of the USA. Poor Samoans, fucked by the French, British, Japanese then Americans.

For a time, a century actually, the French and the British ‘owned’ almost all the areas marked above. Today Americans treat the entire Pacific, 16,000 km wide shore to shore, like it is their property-protectorate so they decide who lives where, when, and who passes through. They have rebranded this neo-colonial policy to call it ‘freedom of navigation’.



Stevenson’s own mansion in Samoa would be something like the one above in Batu Gajah, Perak, on land paid for with with dirt-poor currency value and that is used mostly by the British at the time.

This is the same idea behind the US dollar as foreign reserves and international currency: America prints the money, literally, then uses it to buy and own assets elsewhere and with which you pay for their Boeings so you can have a holiday in London, in US dollar, after you have tucked in your fucking bowl of nasi kandar, rice imported not even from America but Thailand. These stupid ‘Malaysians’.

No wonder Lim Guan Eng is swimming in one trillion worth of debts. He was counting in as well his wife’s Betty panties and his own Gucci briefcase that hadn’t yet been settled in US dollar. What a motherfucker. But hurray!


End Note: This article draws quotations from The Weekly Standard that’s helping to sell, it says, “Joseph Farrell’s excellent book” Robert Louis Stevenson in Samoa. Americans, Liberals, Anglophiles and Ahi Attan and Wong Chen will read then interpret it and say, See! White people have a heart. They are all for assimilation and freedom and reject colonialism.



A Message to our huaqiao 华侨 compatriots

Clip immediately below is for concerned overseas Chinese individuals and businesses, a FYI. Forward it if you can.

Also, prepare yourself for war and work out your lives towards that eventuality, mentally and in your daily routines without disruption. We can’t afford to repeat the mistakes of Ming and Qing China, both falling to foreign invasion in spite of early warning signs, none of which they at the time took for real, even possible, China being prosperous and strong. If we fail again, it would be catastrophic to our people.

We do not go out looking for trouble. But, as did Japan and Britain before, America and its allies have today made us Chinese their enemy and so it shall be. All other talk is just wayang.

We in China are ready, our soldiers instructed, our people told, and we are still perfecting our preparations and we wish you the best. Unlike before this won’t be a war fought on Mainland soil where the population lives, and therefore will suffer the more. No, not this time.



Thought to let you all know: We have moved ahead with the electronic guqin 古琴. Here it is, though, if you are experienced, you could tell it from the original instrument 3,000 years ago…

Conventional, non electronic: the timbre variation from the old is greater.


By all means, dissent. America is a liberal country. But it keeps the concentration camps


In the US more than 13,000 children, aged between 13 and 17, were wrenched from the arms of their parents then thrown into the detention camps like the one above. The camps are still there. For how long? Maybe Jesus Christ knows, but he ain’t saying.


Camp Rules

  • Do not misbehave.
  • Do not sit on the floor.
  • Do not share your food.
  • Do not use nicknames.
  • Do not touch another child, even if that child is your hermanito or hermanita [younger sibling].
  • Also, it is best not to cry.


Humanity is at its greatest perfection in the race of the whites. — Immanuel Kant, German rationalist, ethics philosopher, 1724-1804.


I am apt to suspect the Negroes, and in general all other species of men … to be naturally inferior to the whites. — David Hume, British ‘Enlightenment’, liberal philosopher, 1711-1776.

The Abduction of Children made Democratic


A group of about 80 American writers have released an Open Letter (below) denouncing concentration camps for immigrant kids in the US.

Isn’t it odd that in the country where liberals brag as the world’s most free, most democratic, in fact you can dissent all you want, but America gets to keep the camps — after throwing the accompanying parents out and back behind the border fence.

White British immigrants to Australia did the exact same thing except then those were native children, the Orang Asal, and they had been converted to believe in Jesus Christ and the separation from families was for life. The outright kidnap and confinement of children by Christians and white liberals has a replica-case in Malaysia: the 2010 Malaiyoo Syariah abduction of Penang school girl Tan Yimin while two Pakatan state governments watched but saw nothing.

In western liberal ideology, human rights are for the government to give. But, what a liberal government gives, it can also take away so that the liberal form of totalitarianism is near complete. All the powers of tyranny are, they say, legitimate and voted on. Can you see why natives, migrants and people like Tan Yimin — meaning, the weak, poor, the colored, ‘heathens’ and the powerless — suffer so badly because the denial of their freedom is considered lawful and actually sanctioned by the People!  Even by their Christian and Allah gods.

This white ketuanan and liberal totalitarianism wasn’t launched yesterday nor in Hitler’s time. Plato, crucible of western ideological ideas and who laid the foundations of western philosophy, suggested picking out then separating and confining certain classes of people from the general population because, he wrote, they get in the way of Athenian democracy flowering and elitist rule. (Also see quotations from Hume and Kant, above)

Even white ‘feminists’ (think Hannah Yeoh of Malaysia) were totalitarian and racist, a two-in-one (think Rais Hussin). The American suffragette Carrie Chapman Catt said: “White supremacy will be strengthened, not weakened, by women’s suffrage.” Emmeline Pankhurst, her British sister in the struggle, became a vociferous supporter of colonialism. It was not, she said, “something to decry and something to be ashamed of. It is a great thing to be the inheritors of an empire like ours.” (sic)

You get all that, these depraved minds only — and only — in white, western societies which today they bragged as liberal, free, democratic, brimming with human rights. I wager anyone to find one line advocating the same in any Chinese political text or literature, past or present.

Below is the American letter which, really, is a lot of fart and acts as a smokescreen for their totalitarianism. These liberal writers were directly culpable: they voted for Obama, all singing how wonderful a man he is and, yet, this doyen of liberalism started this — Yes, Barack Obama. He signed arrest and detention into law, therefore making the concentration camps lawful! At the time the same writers saw nothing, heard nothing.


Where tyranny is legal and lawful

Sister, Do Not Touch Your Brother

And Do Not Cry. Or Else…

In Tornillo, Texas, in rows of pale yellow tents, some 1,600 children who were forcefully taken from their families sleep in lined-up bunks, boys separated from the girls. The children, who are between the ages of thirteen and seventeen, have limited access to legal services. They are not schooled. They are given workbooks but they are not obliged to complete them. The tent city in Tornillo is unregulated, except for guidelines from the Department of Health and Human Services. Physical conditions seem humane. The children at Tornillo spend most of the day in air-conditioned tents, where they receive their meals and are offered recreational activities. Three workers look after groups of twenty children each. The children are permitted to make two phone calls per week to their family members or sponsors, and are made to wear belts with phone numbers written out for their emergency contacts.

However, the children’s psychological conditions are anything but humane. At least two dozen of the children who arrived in Tornillo were given just a few hours’ notice in their previous detention center before they were taken away—any longer than that, according to one of the workers at Tornillo, and the children may have panicked and tried to escape. Because of these circumstances, the children of Tornillo are inevitably subjected to emotional trauma. After their release (the date of which has not yet been settled), they will certainly be left with emotional scars, and no one can expect these children to ever feel anything but gut hatred for the country that condemned them to this unjust imprisonment.

The workers at the Tornillo camp, which was expanded in September to a capacity of 3,800, say that the longer a child remains in custody, the more likely he or she is to become traumatized or enter a state of depression. There are strict rules at such facilities: “Do not misbehave. Do not sit on the floor. Do not share your food. Do not use nicknames. Do not touch another child, even if that child is your hermanito or hermanita [younger sibling]. Also, it is best not to cry. Doing so might hurt your case.” Can we imagine our own children being forced to go without hugging or being hugged, or even touching or sharing with their little brothers or sisters?

Federal officials will not let reporters interview the children and have tightly controlled access to the camp, but almost daily reports have filtered through to the press. Tornillo, though unique—even among the hundred-plus US detention facilities for migrant children—in its treatment of minors, is part of a general atmosphere of repression and persecution that threatens to get worse. The US government is detaining more than 13,000 migrant children, the highest number ever; as of last month, some 250 “tender age” children aged twelve or under had not yet been reunited with their parents. Recently, the president has vowed to “put tents up all over the place” for migrants.

This generation will be remembered for having allowed for concentration camps for children to be built on “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” This is happening here and now, but not in our names.

The letter writers include:
  • Rabih Alameddine
  • Jon Lee Anderson
  • Margaret Atwood
  • Paul Auster
  • Andrea Bajani
  • Alessandro Baricco …
  • Susan Yankowitz.


Postscript note

Hey Annie! America wah-se. You like? They got free room and board some more, three meals a day, if you under 17. Maybe your cousin, you know the one still in Mara, boleh qualify. Not 17? No problem, tukar itu IC sikit sikit. All expenses paid what.

Tell you what. Look up Rais Hussin, PhD. He can write a beautiful introduction and support letter to US immigration for your cousin saying, New Malaysia now shares with the US the universal values of “freedom, democracy and human rights.” Your cousin will be in the US to learn and perfect those values.

Yankees like this kind of love letters. It proves that their concentration camps are for freedom, democracy and human rights. Even some coconut tree dwelling Malaiyoo in some Third World country has said so. They just might publish the letter in The New York Times.

You never know, President Trump might then pin medals on your uncle or your father or both. Go for the Congressional Medal of Honor, it’s like the one your beloved, handsome PM Mahathir got from the Japs because he was looking up to them as a model of a human being. Look East. Your family will be famous la. Next step, your dream Green Card.


The Manifesto of Mahathir the Old Toad

Three months after May 10


Promises? What promises! Hear me, Friends! I offered you this magic potion, and it’s only an offer. Not a promise. Not a cure. You were not supposed to drink it!

So die, Shithead.


Related Update: Liberalism in Canada

On political vengeance, Mahathir: “We follow the Rule of Law.” Below, in clip, is the wondrous Rule of Law, and its application thereof: The Indian Act of 1876, Canada.

The Annihilation of Canadian Natives


Where genocide is the Rule of Law

To kill the Native in the Child.” This is as recent as 1996. And the genocide is legal and Canada is held up by the (western) world as a beacon of freedom, of democracy, of liberalism that abides by the Rule of Law.

Justin Trudeau: The genocide is “not integral of Canada.” A hundred years done on a whole native nation by white Pendatang — and legalised — and which is irreversible is “not integral” to Canada? If not white Canada, then what is the genocide integral to? How did it even start? If not integral how is it that the same method is adopted wherever white people emigrated, even today, 2018, in America?

Annihilation of other peoples, their cultures, from the Canadian Arctic to the Falklands, from east to the west, was, and still is, integral to white people, white culture, their ideologies, their white gods, from Jesus and Allah to some desert so-called Prophet. It is just that white people, Justin Trudeau included, and copied by Anglophiles, the converted, by Rais Hussin, by Joseph Lim, never stop their bullshit and duplicity and their sweet words to suit the times.

I promise, 我亲爱: We’ll never, never, never, never, never let this happen to China, our motherland, our children so that Xinjiang Muslims, in the name of their Allah or whatever Turkestan, having killed Chinese because we are infidels, we will kill them also — all of them! 各地的白人 我们会挑战他们.

We won’t be sitting ducks like Canadian natives, or Australian natives or American or Latinos or Filipinos so that 100 years later there will be no occupier-Governor speaking platitudes to us that their genocide is ‘not integral’ to Islamic culture. Or Christian values.


At last! Mat’s got mail!


Liberal Totalitarianism



The Totalitarian as Liberal Gentleman…

A meeting to betray an entire continent and killed 25 million.


Two forms of totalitarianism: One as fine liberal British gentleman (left), the other a fine, upright Aryan national socialist. And both are white.

Sweet words.

The tyrant as liberal, Chamberlain: “Go home, get some sleep, I have brought you peace with honor….”


On Liberalism:

  • matrasad
    (Troll from Cambridge, UK, smack in between Cambridge University’s Christ’s College and Emmanuel College, red dot above.
    IP address

    Nonetheless, liberalism is the one of the few only systems where it is even possible for dissenting views to be published. Your views, and those of the many intellectuals quoted in that article, are usually not tolerated under most other forms of society. Furthermore, what the article calls “Anglo-American liberalism” is really a peculiar form of liberalism that evolved in 20th century America. It’s quite distinct from the classical liberalism of the British 19th century.

    It also posits no real alternative.


  • rihaku

    matrasad, you should re-read the article on these two counts (a) you conflate liberalism as a political form of ordering society, including governance, and as ideological worldview, and (b) you read it with the western mythological baggage, internalize into your worldview, that liberalism being liberalism is, therefore, the most ‘liberal’, the most free, hence tolerant of ‘dissent’.

    There are other related issues inferred in your comments, standard in liberal claptrap, which if stripped to the bare bones don’t stand up to scrutiny, and this shows up prominently today in the west: liberalism as ideology shares totalitarianism’s intellectual roots. That was the thrust of Rosenblatt’s essay.

    You also say, dissenting views are “not tolerated under most other forms of society”. Which society? Western societies only? The world? Since when? How do you know? And what’s so good about dissent? Or what’s the use of the dissent that should be tolerated? Especially your kind of dissenting stupidity? You, as liberal, can’t tolerate this dissent, which is why you are commenting, isn’t it? Are we not entitled to freedom from dissenting bigotry like yours? In Wonderland Alice, Muslims would tell you: “Off with the head!” If there’s dissent, it suggests that there’s something wrong with liberalism to begin with, No?

    You conclude, “It posits no real alternative.” How do you know?

    Get an education, boy. A real education. You’ve been brain-washed in liberal, classical Cambridge. Get your brains re-washed. That, or grow new roots. Or maybe ask your forebears, if you have one.



On Culture:

  • matrasad

    Even most Chinese today have ancestors that weren’t Chinese, but possibly Austronesian or Tai-Kadai speakers. Cultural change and assimilation happens all the time. New roots are always grown. Fossilising culture as if it has never changed, and insulting individuals who decide to adopt different cultures, is insulting to your own forebears.


  • rihaku

    matrasad: “Even most Chinese today have ancestors that weren’t Chinese…”

    Chinese whose ancestors weren’t Chinese? So, what’s Chinese? So they are today western cultures that are not in the past western? What were they? African? White but not white? Western but not western? What is that? You sound very confused.

    matrasad: “…but possibly Austronesian or Tai-Kadai speakers”

    Possibly? You are not sure? And “speakers”? My forebears are speakers of “Austronesian speakers”! Tell me about it! Read it to me! I want to hear….

    matrasad: “Fossilising culture…”

    Which culture has been “fossilized”? If I dig deep enough, will I find it under your bed? Do you know what was Chinese culture like, say, 3,000 years ago compared to the present? Don’t know? Want a hint? But, what for since you are so cocksure, so brain fossilized?

    matrasad: “New roots are always grown.”

    Oh! really? Show me your ass where your tail once was.

    matrasad: “Cultural change and assimilation happens all the time.”

    How do you know? Why, you were born a hundred years ago? Two hundred? Two thousand? And who says culture don’t “change”? But why should people “change” cultures? And who says, and why must, people assimilate? Who should assimilate to who? Or, what to what?

    matrasad: “…individuals who decide to adopt different cultures”…

    Why adopt? What’s the big deal with the culture Anglophiles had adopted? But why bother to adopt since, as you say, culture would be different tomorrow from today, No? What are Anglophiles buying into? Given change, Anglo-Saxon culture might even revert to their original (or worse) godless, heathen barbarism, No?

    matrasad: “…insulting to your own forebears.”

    My forebears would be delighted to read those insults. That fucking piece of banana. Are you a banana? Or, a coconut? Or, since new roots grow all the time, as you say they would, are you a cross between a banana and a coconut? What would you call your newly rooted cultural specie? Bananut?

    matrasad, you are a fine product of a pathetic culture, intellectual culture included. And inferior to boot. Why don’t you assimilate? Move up, you know. Try Islamism. Join ISIS, there you could learn to slice throats and truly assimilate.


Postscript note to self: Why do I even bother talking with this piece of motherfucking troll called mat.rasad….


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马华 新团队 新时代








The history of the DAP is its history of duplicity.


The script now needs to be rewritten in its entirety.


现在 是谁用谁


Record keeper of beans?

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When Will I Be Home?

by Li Shangyin (c. 813–858)

When will I be home? I don’t know.
In the mountains, in the rainy night,
The autumn lake is flooded.
Someday we will be back together again.
We will sit in the candlelight by the west window,
And I will tell you how I remembered you
Tonight on the stormy mountain.


Someday we’ll be back together again / We’ll sit …by the west window  / I’ll tell you how I remembered you…


Just in

Home sent autumn flowers and I thought that the red winter coat, just bought, is very elegant. All these act like reminders that I’m taking too long and, really, I must hurry.


Warning: Graphic images!

I was going to call you yesterday because I had such a traumatic experience, but I decided against calling because often words can’t describe what I have seen….



What Lynsey Addario saw was, and still is, America! Annie’s America.


Letters to Mom from Iraq

by Lynsey Addario


Feb 2004

Hi Mom,

so nice to hear from you. i’m doing well. still chasing explosions almost every day, though it seems quiet strangely. we don’t usually find out about the bombs until three hours have already passed, and it makes the scene difficult to cover as a journalist. typically, the americans seal the area and keep us so far away that we can’t see anything, and the iraqis are so enraged about what has happened that they turn their anger on us.

i was going to call you yesterday because I had such a traumatic experience, but i decided against calling because often words can’t describe what i have seen. i was doing a story in the children’s cancer ward of this hospital in baghdad, where the hospital is in such bad condition that raw sewage mixes with the drinking water and patients end up sicker than when they first checked in. it is understood that there are hundreds more cancer victims in iraq since the gulf war, because the u.s. used bombs which emit depleted uranium, and many people in the country are now suffering from cancer. so, i went to the cancer ward, and it was so emotionally overwhelming that i couldn’t handle it. the first woman i saw was unrelated to these cases. she was the grandmother of a newborn with jaundice. the baby was the color of a banana, and the young newlyweds couldn’t even look at the baby as it screamed over and over. the grandmother just sat on the bed, alone, rocking the baby, and at some point, she started asking for the doctor, calmly, saying that the baby was cold. the nurse walked over and bluntly said the baby was going to die, at which point the grandmother, still alone because the parents couldn’t deal with the trauma, started weeping alone on the bed with her banana colored baby. i photographed her. the mother came in and stood off to the side. the grandmother continued weeping.

i then returned to abdullah, 11, who i had been photographing. he has leukemia. he wears a nike hat to cover his baldness, and is now too weak to hold a pencil. he used to be at the top of his class, and his mother just sat on his bed, complaining how he no longer can play, can go to school, can do anything but sleep and cry. the nurse called out his name to give him his daily medication dose before his chemo treatment, and his mother went over to collect 25 bottles of fluid to be injected in him for the day. one day. he lied on his side, swimming in this medication, and his mother started looking for a nurse to give him the chemo. we went into a bare room, where the boy started crying at the mere sight of the needles. apparently they missed his vein in his hand in the morning, and he was in a lot of pain. the mother, father, and doctor stood by the bed while another child with cancer waited behind him, bald, who had been undergoing treatment for three years already. Omar was about 12 years old. as the doctor put the needle in abdullah’s hand, he started screaming at the top of his lungs, and his father, a sturdy, proud, arab man, started crying as he tried to calm his son. the mother left the room. abdullah continued screaming. the father walked away to wipe his tears. i was crying so hard at this point that i just kept the camera in front of my face in shame, and I eventually had to go out on the balcony because i couldn’t stop crying.

then i thought how little it would take to help these kids and their families. maybe enough so they had medication or tissues or a cafeteria where the food wasn’t boiled in sewage. i don’t know, mom. I’ve seen so much money and so much poverty, and i can’t understand why they aren’t more equally distributed.

love you, lyns

Miriam Hadi, 6, sits with her mother, and aunt, right, in the oncology ward of the Baghdad central pediatric hospital February 12, 2004, in Baghdad, Iraq. Miriam has Leukemia, and is blind and possibly deaf, and is from the Northern Iraqi city of Sulaimaniya. She and her family have travelled to this Baghdad hospital for treatment. Since the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime in April 2003, the state of hospitals around Baghdad has declined (sic!), suffering from a continued lack of resources, cleanliness, electricity, among other things. (Lynsey Addario/Corbis, for The New York Times)


April 5, 2004


I am still in baghdad. I almost died yesterday, and the day before, and am tired and stressed, and counting the days before I can come home, or find the most deserted beach on earth (and possibly a boyfriend for rent), so i can sit down with some chilly margaritas and watch the ocean swallow my feet. this country has sunken into the depths of hell. there is the potential for a complete uprising against the americans almost any day now, and with every fight between the americans and the iraqis, it becomes more and more difficult to work. My judgement of what is dangerous and what is reasonable are so skewed right now that, last night, I drove into the middle of a gun-battle in Sadr City, the Shiite neighborhood in Baghdad, and skipped out of the car while my armed escort, a heavily bearded, former iraqi army guy, cowered in the front seat, adamantly refusing to get out of the car to offer me protection. Tires burned along the sides of the main roads, the air thick with black, rubbery smoke, and the streets were barren, save for the occasional man, warning any pedestrian who dared to enter Sadr City to get out. They were worried—‘get out, get out . . . pointed at my driver, qais, and I . . . they will kill you . . . she is a foreign woman . . . get out.’

I spotted Muqtada al Sadr’s office, in flames and at the end of an infernal road, and pointed my camera and began shooting. I had faith the Iraqis wouldn’t kill me, and was in this zone of immense concentration, when I felt qais’ hand heavy on the nape of my neck. I was confused . . . shots rang out, louder and louder until they were deafening, and qais started screaming, ‘the Americans are coming . . . tanks, Americans . . . ’ repeatedly. I had always had this feeling that in the end, my fate might be at the hands of the Americans . . . and this was the end, I was sure. The tanks plowed towards us, opening fire from I have no idea where, and I froze. qais, clenching my abeya, and wrapping arms around my waist, ran me into the nearest home which opened his door to us. Everything remains a blur. We scampered through puddles of raw sewage on the main floor, and I remember thinking of my obituary—she was found face-down in a puddle of raw sewage, and I got a bit depressed. I had a little bulletproof vest hidden under my abaya, with basically two plates that I had no confidence could save me from a stabbing much less tank fire. Qais and the Iraqi man led me up a concrete stairwell, up half a flight, and qais and I crouched low underneath a window, behind the continuation of the stairwell, him covering my body with his own. the owner of the house crouched directly beneath the window, and I thought—shit, I should be taking photos. Only in times like this do I actually pray and revert back to ten hail mary’s I once recited after my first confession, when I lied to the priest because I had nothing to confess. I told him I had stolen bubble gum and was instructed to recite the same hail mary’s I always start saying when I am about to die . . . maybe because it is the only prayer I ever actually learned growing up? the sound of tank fire ricocheted all around me, that I realized I am completely crazy.

Abdul Munim Ali Hamood wraps the body of his only son in the Al Karama morgue after he was killed in this morning’s car bomb attack in Baghdad, Iraq, June 17, 2004. At least 31 Iraqis were killed this morning in Baghdad as a bomb ripped into a throng of men waiting today to sign up for the new Iraqi army (sic!).(Lynsey Addario, for The New York Times)


Editorial Note: Pay attention to the wording; italics are added for emphasis. Note the ‘sic!’ going with the reporter’s language and the subtle propaganda inferences derived: Hospitals decline for the lack of a ‘regime’, America create enemies — No, invent enemies — and enemies don’t have a government, they have a ‘regime’ (see further below). Bombs go off for no reason other than for the heck of killing and maiming. In short, it is not America’s fault. Things happen, people die, all for no reason because this, Iraq, is a barbaric society. In The New York Times and others, they would, if they can get away with it, erase all semblances of direct American responsibility.


Lynsey AddarioLynsey Addario is an American photojournalist whose work appears regularly in The New York Times, National Geographic, and Time magazine. She has covered conflicts in Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Darfur, and the Congo, and has received numerous awards, including the MacArthur Genius Grant and the Pulitzer Prize in International Reporting.


When will America, Lynsey Addario leave us alone!


Postscript Note: They send in the soldiers, the guns, the planes and bombs. And after that, and this is odd, they send in their Reporters. And other people’s suffering, the crying, the needles, the deaths, the morgue, they become fodder for American writing, for The New York Times, for their awards, and prizes and, of course, money.

Look, they’d say, we Americans, the world’s freest, most liberal country, is also the world’s most compassionate. We also have a heart! So moving….

Then, after all that, after those sob-sob stories, the soldiers, the guns, the planes still go in and the bombs continue to go off. And you’re left to wonder, which country is next? There were Korea, Vietnam, yesterday Iraq, tomorrow? So what’s left for the Abdullahs, the Omars, the newlyweds, the mothers and the fathers? Do they stop crying and wait for America the Compassionate!

When will America leave us alone!

Or they will never because then Lynsey Addario will have nothing to write home in her letters to Mom and ‘boyfriend-for-rent‘ and she can’t dream of ‘chilly margaritas and watch the ocean swallow my feet‘ while ‘this country‘ sinks ‘into the depths of hell‘. Poor thing! And, they will never because then there will be no prizes and no awards and no money.

Imagine! There, that country, with the sort of value system that actually gives you a prize for painting miseries and deaths that they themselves had wrought on the rest of the world! It’s not Lynsey’s hell, after all, and there is that chilly margaritas and ocean waiting for her. The Iraqis? America, and no kidding, actually celebrate you in dinner suits and fine evening dresses, toast and dine you, for the sufferings inflicted elsewhere that you then bring home. So beautiful, that picture! So poetic, those words!

Still, they see nothing wrong in their perversity. American cruelty is simply romanticized away. They couldn’t see that nowhere else in the world, absolutely nowhere, is there a country sicker than America.

But America would be the sort of encapsulation of morality people like Rais Hussin, Saifuddin Abdullah and Annie of the Valley would like to emulate, fawn over; the world’s freest place to live in, too. Small wonder Pakatan Harapan can be so hypocritical and they don’t even bother to blink when they deceive. New Malaysia, yes, indeed. Hence, it’s now a New Hope government whereas before it was the Najib ‘regime’.